If Wishes Were Fishes
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: After his Valentine's Day plans with China fall apart, Russia finds himself spending the rest of the holiday with America, a bottle of vodka and an obscenely large box of chocolate.


"You look like hell warmed over," America said before popping another piece of chocolate into his mouth. "No offense."

"That does not make sense," Russia said, his voice somewhat muffled because he was slumped face first against the table. "Hell is already very hot, da? Why would warmed over be worse?"

"It's just a figure out speech, man. Don't think too much about it. I'm just saying you look all...wilted."

That was a fair assessment. Russia _felt_ wilted. Even the bow he had tied his scarf into was starting to look droopy.

"Come on, cheer up!" America said, slapping the morose country on the back. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was not bad. It was terrible. Humiliating." Russia lifted his head up off the table long enough to take another swig from his half empty vodka bottle and flopped back down.

"So what-" There were some wet smacking sounds as America stopped to eat more candy. "What happened, huh?"

"Don't want to talk."

"You'll feel better if you do!"

"You only say that because you are curious. Want to revel in my failure. Very unheroic of you."

"You cut me deep, pal. And after all I did to help you."

"You did not help. You just...encouraged me to go along with this foolishness."

"_And_ I told you to tie your scarf in a bow! That was my idea!"

"It was a stupid idea. I should not have listened."

"Well if I suck so much, why'd you come back here, huh?"

Russia didn't have a good answer for that. It was funny how only yesterday America had seemed to fit into his plans so seamlessly. Maybe that was his first real mistake, to let America in at all. He shouldn't have gotten so comfortable, shouldn't have let it slip that he wanted to finally make his move on China over Valentine's Day. America had looked strangely disappointed at that (was he maybe interested in China too?) but quickly perked up. He had a meeting with China on the 13th, and there was an extra bed in his hotel room. Why not share the room? Then Russia could approach China first thing in the morning, and if everything went according to plan, China would be swept off his feet and they could enjoy Valentine's Day and the Chinese New Year together.

Except that things didn't go according to plan. Not at all. Staying the night with America, getting a pep talk that morning and having the younger country help him tie his scarf in a bow had all gone well, but everything fell apart after that.

The gargantuan, bright pink heart shaped box of chocolates in front of America wasn't even a third empty yet, in spite of the fact that America had been steadily munching ever since Russia had collapsed against their little table at the hotel bar. Where had that thing come from anyway? And how had America's stomach not exploded yet? Two mysteries, but Russia was too drained to care about the origin of the box or the black hole that might exist in America's gut.

"I thought that Valentine's Day was a day for giving your heart to a...what is the word...a _crush_, da?" Russia muttered to the table.

"Yep, it can be," America said lightly, tossing another chocolate in the air and catching it in his mouth. "Why?"

"Because it all went wrong. I tried to give China my heart and it did not work. He did not want it."

"Are you sure? I mean, he's kind of prickly sometimes when he's in a bad mood. What'd he say?"

"He said, 'Aiya, that's disgusting! Put it back in your chest before you bleed all over the floor, aru!'"

America froze, another piece of chocolate half way to his mouth.

"Wait, what?"

"Are you not listening? You ask and ask and now I tell you and you are not listening!"

"No, I'm listening, I just...I'm confused."

"What is there to be confused about? I take out my heart and say 'Happy Valentine's Day, this is for you,' and all I get is screaming."

"You're joking."

"Nyet, he really did scream!"

"I was talking about you taking your heart out! You didn't seriously do that, did you?"

"Of course I did! How do I give my heart if I do not take it out?"

America just stared. And then he burst out laughing.

"You've got to be kidding!" he howled, pounding his fist on the table. "Oh man, I can't believe you did that. That's priceless! No, I'm sorry, don't leave!" he amended quickly, grabbing Russia's arm when the taller country stood.

"_Let_ _go_. I am very tired. I want to go back to the room and rest now." 'Rest' was, in this context, synonymous with 'get hammered and cry into his pillow.'

"Don't be that way, man! I'm sorry I laughed, okay? But really, you got it all wrong. They don't mean you should literally take your heart out when they talk about giving someone your heart. It would kill most people if they tried. It's a...whatsit, a metaphor or something. Or a simile. I dunno, one of those thing that says one thing and means another. Or is it an allegory-"

"They should have been more clear about that," Russia said heavily, slumping back into his seat. "Would have saved me the humiliation. And now China wants nothing to do with me."

"What, just because you did something creepy and gross? I didn't think he was that sensitive."

"Nyet, he said..." Here Russia had to stop and gulp down the miserable little lump that was forming in his throat. "Even after he calmed down, he said he was not interested. In me. Like that." The back of his mouth was starting to taste like tears, and he swallowed hard again.

"Aw, that's too bad. I'm sorry," America said, patting Russia on the shoulder. He didn't sound very sorry, though. He almost sounded a little...relieved. He took another piece of from the seemingly endless box of chocolate and bit into it, only to make a face. "Ew, coconut! I hate coconut. Here, you can have this one."

The half eaten chocolate was thrust into Russia's face. "Why would I want your second hand candy?"

"Don't be a baby, I only bit off the corner. And everyone knows chocolate makes you feel better, so eat up. I've got plenty!"

"Not hungry," Russia sighed, putting his chin back down on the table. His pathetic posture earned another pat on the arm from America.

"Don't get too down about it, buddy. There's plenty of fish in the sea."

"I know this," Russia snapped nastily. "There are millions of fish. This has nothing to do with China. Stop changing the subject."

"I'm not! It's a saying, y'know? Like, there's a bunch of fish and there's a special fish out there for everybody, right? Every fish goes with a different fish."

"Then the fishes are cross breeding? Because I was under the impression that fishes only went with the same kind of fishes. Unless these are different kinds of fish. We are talking about breeding, da? Or is this about the food chain? Does each fish only eat one other kind of fish? I don't know about fish. We should talk to Seychelles."

"Exactly how drunk are you? Because I have no idea what you just said."

"Good. I do not know what we are talking about either."

"I wasn't talking about literal fish. It's another one of the allegory-ish things. Everybody's a fish, okay? You're a fish, I'm a fish, China's a fish, everybody's a fish. And everybody's got one special fish they're meant to be with. Like a soul mate."

Russia stopped to consider this, and take another gulp of vodka. "What kind of fish am I?"

"I dunno...a whale shark? 'Cause it's the biggest. And I'm a great white!"

"Because you are stupid and brutish like the shark, da?"

America gave him a hard swat on the back of the head without missing a beat. "No, 'cause great whites are fucking awesome! Don't you ever watch Shark Week? Most bad ass shark ever."

"Then what kind is China?"

"Um...a goldfish? Not the little carnival ones, I mean the big fancy ones he keeps over at his place. Anyway, the point is...maybe the China fish isn't meant to be with the Russia fish. Got it?"

"Because the goldfish is too small for the whale shark? Ah, then this _is_ about breeding!"

"No! This is about love!"

"Then why?! Why can't the China fish love the Russia fish?" Russia moaned. "Is not my fault if I am a whale shark. That is not fair."

"Forget about the whale shark thing for a second, okay?" America said quietly. "It's not about species or size or where we come from or whatever...sometimes stuff works out, and sometimes it doesn't. So if it turns out that the China fish isn't meant to be with the Russia fish...well, there are lots of other fish that might still go with the Russia fish. So don't get depressed about it. That's all I'm trying to say."

There was quiet while Russia leaned on the table to mull this over and America ate more candy.

"But just for the record," America said, muffled around another mouthful of chocolate. "I never thought you and China went that well together. Just saying. I mean, he never seemed that happy to hang out with you, and you never seemed relaxed around him either-"

"Have you been spying on us?"

"N-no! I mean, I'd maybe watch you guys a little bit at meetings and stuff...not like I was really paying attention to it or anything..." America coughed awkwardly and scratched his nose, leaving a smudge of melted chocolate behind. Russia decided to not tell him.

"Which fish do I go with then, if not China?"

To his surprise, America turned pink. "I-I dunno. There are lots of fish."

"Just say a name."

"I said I don't know! Drop it!"

"Fine, then which fish does the America fish go with?"

America choked slightly, and his blush deepened. "Whoever the hell he wants to go with!" he snapped. "He's a fucking great white shark, so he can get whichever he wants."

"But you are single now, da?" It was a bit mean spirited, but after all the disappointment, Russia couldn't resist. He was surprised to feel a tiny twinge of guilt when America's shoulders slumped.

"Maybe I haven't made my move yet," he grumbled. "Ever think of that? Of course not. So mind your own business."

"You do not mind _your_ own business," Russia reminded him.

"That 'cause I'm trying to help you, you jerk. Don't know why I bother."

"Da, why _do_ you bother?"

He had meant it as just a little jab, just one more quip to bounce back and forth between them, but America's face turned still and serious.

"'Cause that's what friends do, dumb-ass. They cheer each other up when they're having a crappy day."

Oh. Russia hated when America did this. They would be moving along just fine through a conversation and suddenly he would throw in something like that and completely disrupt the flow, so much so that the next thing out of Russia's mouth was, "We are not friends," and that really wasn't what he meant to say at all.

"Well, we used to be, right?" America said firmly, not to be deterred. "So why can't we go back to that? I mean, I...I-I don't hate you. And I really, really hope you don't hate me either. Not anymore, anyway."

Russia hated this too. It was too sincere, too open, too honest. He wished he could think it was all just an act, but America was a terrible liar. There were some things he hadn't forgotten over the Cold War, and one of those things was how to tell when America was being honest. What Russia _had_ forgotten was how to react to that honesty without sounding like a fool, and so the words that tripped out of his mouth were halting and fumbling.

"I-I do not hate you either."

America's face brightened up instantly. "Great! So we can start working on becoming friends again, right? Here, you can have another piece of chocolate. You can have any you like, and I won't eat half first. What do you want? Caramel? Raspberry?"

"Where did all that chocolate come from?" Russia asked, making America freeze in the act of selecting a candy.

"I-I got it," he said awkwardly. "Do you like Irish Cream-"

"From who?"

"England, okay? How about cherry cordial-"

"What happened?"

"Nothing, jeez!"

"I told you about China. The least you can do is tell me about England. Is that...is that not what friends do? You have...listened to my worries. And you have not been very good company, but you...listened. And so I will do the same, da?"

America's expression softened a little at that as put the latest chocolate back down and heaved a sigh. "Just to warn you, this is way worse than what happened between you and China."

"Why? Did you remove your liver instead of your heart?"

"I can't take out my organs, you freak. That's just you. No...England...dammit, he knew I was going to be out here, so he came over and...and he told me he loved me, alright?"

The silence that stretched between them turned chilly.

"I see," Russia said shortly. Why did he suddenly feel so annoyed? "Then why are you not with your new lover?"

"Because he's _not _my new lover. I turned him down."

Russia turned this new piece of information around in his head a few times, trying to make it fit. "Are you playing hard to get with him?"

"Hell no!"

"Then why? Everyone knows you two have the...the 'special relationship.'"

"And does 'special relationship' mean I want to jump his bones? In a word, no." America suddenly looked so miserable that Russia wondered if this was the part when sort-of-friends were supposed to hug. "It's not that I don't care about him, you know? Just...not like that. You care about Belarus, don't you? But you don't want to marry her. It's like that."

"Point taken," Russia agreed with a shudder.

"It was awful," America sighed, poking at his chocolate box. "He didn't actually cry, but he looked like he was going to. And he wouldn't take the chocolate back either. He said I should keep it anyway. So I did. Does that make me a jerk?"

Russia didn't answer right away. Instead he grabbed a piece of chocolate from the box and popped it into his mouth. It had a sticky, unidentifiable taste.

"Then the England fish is not the one for the America fish, da?" he said at last, trying to dislodge the sugary goo from his teeth with his tongue.

America laughed weakly and pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Something like that."

"You have another fish in mind?" Russia asked, suddenly wishing for a toothpick.

"Y-yeah," America said quietly, color rising up in his cheeks again. "But I can't do anything right now. He's in a weird place, romantically speaking. If I tried, it would all fall through."

"You sound so sure."

"I am so sure. And I know from experience that he can be real difficult."

"Is he worth the trouble, then? If he is so difficult."

Another laugh from America, and a warm smile that made something flip over in Russia's stomach. Or maybe that was just the chocolate colliding with the vodka he drank earlier.

"Yeah, he's worth it. He's one hell of a fish."

Russia nodded and took another drink from his almost empty vodka bottle. The strange feeling in his stomach hadn't stopped yet. Eating that chocolate might have been a mistake. "Then I wish you luck with your fishing." He sighed then, leaning back in his chair. "It seems we were both unlucky this Valentine's Day."

"Eh, it's only noon. Valentine's Day isn't over yet."

"A pity. I am ready for it to be over."

"Why? You and me are still here. Why don't we hang out?"

Russia blinked at the proposition. "Does it not sound pathetic for two single men to spend Valentine's Day together?"

"No way!" America insisted, thumping his hand against the table top. "Today's supposed to be about love, right? Why's it got to be only romantic love? What about the love between friends? We can celebrate that."

"Is that worth celebrating?" Russia asked, and realized that it was a stupid question before it was even out of his mouth. The sincerity in America's eye was making the heaviness of China's rejection lift a little more with each passing minute. He had missed this, this warmth and comfort. He had missed this friendship. He had missed America.

"It totally fucking is!" America exclaimed, slapping Russia on the back in a rush of enthusiasm. "It's worth it!"

"Then let us celebrate," Russia said, smiling along with America for the first time all day.

America beamed and started babbling about what they could do together (see a movie? get dinner? go sight seeing?), and Russia found himself wondering if whale sharks and great white sharks could live in the same ocean.


End file.
